


Ecfigia

by K (Thiswasmydesign)



Series: Secret Shinigami 2018 [2]
Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Gen, Gift Exchange, Gift Work, Haunting, I didn't mean to originally, Poltergeist, Prompt Fic, Secret Shinigami Exchange 2018, Some feels, Some funny, ghost l, i don't know how the feels happened, must have been mood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thiswasmydesign/pseuds/K
Summary: For Secret Shinigami Exchange 2018;Prompt; Mello being haunted by L's ghost. L disapproves of Mello's life choices and Mello disapproves of L in general. They bicker a lot.





	Ecfigia

**Author's Note:**

> For secret Shinigami exchange and posted slightly earlier than the tumblr post with permission from organisers due to time difference (will be released on tumblr at 3am my time).  
> I got 5 lovely prompts rather than 3, so I decided to gift 1 main and 1 short from those rather than just one! This is the main slightly longer one of the two.  
> NB checked with the exchange and they had no issue with foul language (which is good because it is hard to write a Mello who doesn't swear, he seems the type who would do a lot of unnecessary swearing), but that accounts for the T rating.

Mello was the first to realise that there was something wrong.

Wammy’s house had always been… odd. It was an old building, and old buildings had those strange noises and creeping shadows that foolish people called character. Of course Mello was too intelligent to be spooked by something as silly as air in the pipes and he was used to the oddness from the years of living in the building.

This, though, was different.

Old buildings didn’t rearrange your chocolate into the shape of an “L”, nor did it write on your mirror with guy-liner.

At first he thought it _had_ to be Near.

Near was the bane of his life. Everything bad that happened to him – it was Near’s fault. But he just couldn’t work out how Near could actually get in to his room since he was actually a very light sleeper. Besides, Near was never interested in _deliberately_ tormenting him, he just managed it without any time or effort dedicated to the task.

This… this was effort. This was someone deliberately targeting him.

Still, his first thought was not that there was a supernatural explanation for the events that were occurring. Mello had been taught how to approach a problem rationally and logically, even if he sometimes did prefer to handle it with a gun or an explosive instead. He was usually one step ahead, and so he came up with several other possible reasons for the events that he had begun to notice.

He set traps. He managed to blow up his bathroom with a cotton thread attached to the guy-liner when someone tried to move it. He found no sign that anyone had ever been there. He had to limit the theories for what was happening.

He set up cameras. He watched as the pen he left out on his desk was picked up, dropped, picked up again by an unseen hand. Whatever was trying to write couldn’t seem to maintain its grip strength for more than a few seconds at a time.

It was invisible, and so he had to revise his theory. No, that wasn’t someone from Wammy’s house playing a trick on him.

This had to be, as impossible as it seemed, supernatural.

November ended on a high, with his test score being within two points of Near’s for the first time in two years – he was trying very hard despite this supernatural distraction to prove that he should be the next L. He took the supernatural force and all of the L’s that it was writing to be a sign that he was to be the next L – him, not Near.

Then December came and his world fell apart.

Roger had called them both to his office, had declared that the unthinkable had happened.

L was dead.

Mello reeled in shock, snapped when Roger asked him to work with Near. He couldn’t – he was meant to be the next L! That was what his supernatural associate was telling him every day.

Except… supernatural associate? A supernatural force that repeatedly wrote the letter L, sometimes even in the classic calligraphy.

It couldn’t be. Mello shoved some more of his clothing into a suitcase – after folding it neatly, no point getting his favourites all creased up.

That niggling suspicion wouldn’t go away. Mello knew logically that ghosts weren’t real, couldn’t be real… and yet, he had a supernatural companion. One who had appeared exactly a month ago. A month was how long Roger told them L had been dead for, in order to trigger the message being sent to them.

Mello went to the table, writing two words on a piece of paper and setting the pen down in the centre so it was free to roll.

“L?”

The pen, slowly at first, rolled to the left.

_Yes._

He rolled it back to the middle.

“You’ve got to be kidding…”

The pen quickly rolled to the right. _No._

* * *

 

In the early days Mello had developed a communication board, because no matter how frustrating he found L, he thought that the detective might be useful to share whatever knowledge he knew about the Kira case.

L was about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

No, on reflection, L was less useful than a chocolate teapot. At least that was made of chocolate, so it had something nice about it.

L had thoroughly enjoyed the communication board. He used it regularly, and whenever Mello tried to get rid of it the board would somehow find its way back to him.

Mello threw it in a dumpster. L emptied the entire contents of the dumpster into the borrowed house through his kitchen window and laid the communication board safely on the kitchen table, with a counter on the word “arsehole” that Mello had added for a laugh.

Mello tried to set it on fire. L broke a nearby fire hydrant – when had he got so strong? Water gushed from the hydrant and soaked Mello and the communication board. Mello would have laughed at his success, but though the card he had used was damp the ink did not run and L had somehow managed to dry out the board and return it to him.

Mello threw the board down the sewer…

Well, the less said about that one the better, but there simply wasn’t enough scented soap in the world to make a difference for what felt to Mello like weeks.

He wouldn’t mind L using the communication board for its intended purpose, but he wasn’t useful. Mello had tried to use it to question him.

“Did Kira kill you?”

_No._

“But you died in the Kira case?”

_Yes._

“So the person who killed you _was_ in Japan?”

Mello couldn’t really interpret the next answer. Neither a yes or a no, L took the counter and set it on one of Mello’s outfits – right on a skull and crossbones.

“You were killed by pirates?”

_No._

“You were killed by… a zombie skeleton?”

L flicked the counter at his head. Mello caught it, but his temper flared. He screamed, tossing the table at the opposite wall, and stormed from the room.

He had returned later and tried again, once he had calmed down. In addition to the board he brought a map.

“Where should I go?”

L’s counter was set down over England on the map, and then onto the communication board.

_Home._

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Mello rolled his eyes. “I’m not working with Near.”

_Yes. Home._

“Not a chance, I’m going to beat Kira on my own and prove that I should be the next L.”

_No._

“What the fuck do you mean, no? I’m clearly the best!”

_No. 2._

“I’m not working with Near,” Mello huffed. “What do you know, anyway? Kira beat you.”

_No._

“Yes. You’re dead. I don’t know why I’m even listening to you, he beat you.”

Mello had packed up the board and moved on. He was moving a lot in recent weeks – he couldn’t squat in the same place for too long. He needed to move frequently if he was going to achieve his goal.

He had been raised in England, at Wammy’s house, but he wanted to find a new and better life. He had an idea of where he wanted to go first and he had managed to get a plane ticket for the journey. He was going to LA.

If Near was supposed to be the next L, that would make _him_ the next Beyond Birthday. He had the same goal. He would prove himself to be better than L, to go Beyond L.

Where better to start than where Beyond’s path ended?

* * *

 

He hadn’t known when he made his journey that Beyond Birthday was already dead, killed by Kira. He had been so desperate to meet him, not that L approved.

Beyond Birthday had some special skills that Kira seemed to share – he had claimed to be able to know a person’s name from only seeing their face. He could have provided valuable insight into the Kira case, but he was dead.

Mello couldn’t believe that L had left him so unprotected against Kira. Even Beyond had used an alias for so much of his life, it seemed ridiculous to have tried him under his real name. If L had only charged him as Rue Ryuzaki he might be alive today.

Mello complained about this loudly and frequently to L, even though L would retaliate by filling his mocha macchiato with sugar, or turning the shower control to freeing cold.

Mello had realised by this point that L was what should be called a poltergeist rather than a normal ghost. He didn’t think L would be helpful under any circumstance, but whenever he did something remotely positive he always struggled, like when he had tried to identify himself and tell Mello that he was real, that he was there. When he was doing something destructive he was extremely strong, able to slam doors and throw things as much as he wanted but not able to lift a simple pen to write with.

L was less than useless, so Mello decided to do things his own way.

His way was better anyway.

He put his ear to the ground – figuratively of course – and found a way in. He took the head of a mob boss to his greatest rival and was immediately accepted. The enemy of their enemy was their ally.

L painted the walls with the blood of the mob boss and wrote in the blood.

_Go home._

“No.”

Mello worked his way through the ranks of the mob without difficulty, proving himself extremely useful and soon though he did not take the role of boss – which would just leave him open to attacks that he was not bothered to deal with – he was soon leading from behind the scenes, acting as puppet master. He had all the chocolate he could eat, all the fine and fancy clothing he could buy, and if he could ever get a moment alone with them, girls really liked him too.

L never left him alone, and it was difficult to explain to the girls why strange things would happen whenever he got close, even if he was only making friends. L would throw things, drop things on their feet, mess up their hair. He would do whatever it took to force them away from Mello.

Mello was angry. To think he had once respected L, wanted to be like him.

L was a menace, and Mello hated him.

Mello had managed to track down a lot more information about the Kira case over the years. L may be utterly useless but Mello was not. He could catch Kira all on his own, and he would do so.

He manipulated the mob boss to kidnap the right people and the showdown began.

L melted a stolen bar of his chocolate and used it to write on his mirror.

_You will lose._

“No,” Mello snarled at his reflection, marred by the spoiled treat, and wiped it away. His glass shower door exploded, the shards of glass cutting shallowly into his skin. He painstakingly removed every tiny fragment, finding inspiration in it for a plan.

Glass screens separated them all from one another as the notebook was exchanged and Sayu Yagami was freed, back to the control of the new L – of Kira. The new L was nothing like the old L, the difference noticeable in his every move. In all the time he spent studying Kira, Mello had learned that he was more dangerous than the foolish ghost had ever been when he was alive. A formidable opponent. To defeat him would prove that he was better than L, and he would claim the title once and for all.

Once he had made that first play, things happened quickly. L no longer made pleas for him to return to Wammy’s house. The words that appeared in the shattered porcelain, made up of every piece of kitchenware in the house.

_Run. Hide._

“I am not a coward.”

The porcelain shifted, all as one, as if this ghostly L had a thousand hands.

_Fool._

“Why don’t you go bother Near for a change?” Mello snarled, kicking a spout less teapot through the word. “Shouldn’t you be helping him since he’s your favourite?”

_No._

“Argh! I don’t fucking want you here!”

_Mello._

“Can’t you go break Kira’s stuff instead?” Mello huffed. “That might actually be helpful.”

It happened suddenly, and then it was gone. The room was muggy, all of a sudden, still warm but humid rather than the dry LA air. The feeling of rain, falling in large droplets and landing on his head, soaking through his clothing as if it were cotton rather than leather. Dripping from his hair, catching on eyelashes and making them feel so very heavy. The sound of footsteps on concrete, and the rain that fell around them. Feelings, of sadness and an inevitability, an acceptance.

“What was that?” Mello rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to get rid of the sensation of water that lingered there even though it was dry as he tried to shake off the sudden emotions. “I didn’t know you could do that. Is that what it’s like, where you are?”

The porcelain shifted, using the M and the e.

_Memory._

_Not_

_Important._

“No shit,” Mello snorted, kicking the teapot again. “Now piss off. I have work to do.”

Mello left the mess for the girls to clean up, snatched his morning chocolate cereal from the cupboard and went in search of someone who might have a bowl he could eat it from. Behind him, L exploded the light bulb.

* * *

 

_Burned._

“No shit Sherlock,” Mello wiped the lipstick from the mirror, trying again to work his foundation over the wound. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it – the burn made him look more masculine, and no one would ever mistake him for a girl again with that there, no matter what he chose to wear. But sometimes he needed to be able to move without standing out, and this was one of those days.

_Nearly died._

Mello huffed, wiping the words away.

“Do you mind?”

_No. Go home._

“I will not,” he had to grab another roll of toilet paper to wipe the mirror clean. “Besides, this has gone on too long. I have to finish it.”

_Alone. Dead._

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Mello snarled, hating what he had finally realised, seeing the way Kira worked and just how good he was. He hated to admit that L had been right all along; Kira was too good at this for them to beat him on their own. “That’s why I called in Matt.”

_Not enough._

“Hey, he’s brilliant…”

_Third._

“You know what L? Fuck you.” Giving the foundation up as a bad job, Mello punched a hole in the centre of the mirror with knuckle dusters. Hell, he wasn’t ever going to be inconspicuous anyway, marching into Near’s headquarters like he owned the place. Time for a change of tactics; perhaps a hostage?

Because though he wouldn’t admit it, L was right. He and Near, they needed each other to do this and even then when he thought it through, the best case scenario was that he would be the only one who would die. As usual he had taken things too far too quickly, and now he would have to suffer the consequences.

He hoped that when he died L would leave him alone. He really didn’t need that frog telling him ‘I told you so’ for the rest of his existence.

* * *

 

There was condensation on the window when Mello got back into the front of the lorry, and there were words written there.

_She has a page. Get it. Be quick._

“I know,” Mello sighed heavily, resting his hands on the steering wheel.

_Kill you._

“Yes.”

_Stupid. Can live._

“I didn’t intend to die,” Mello had been so careful when he was planning this, coordinating with Near behind the backs of the SPK and the mafia. They had found a way in which all three of them should survive, but then some trigger-happy idiot of a police officer had pulled a trigger that did not need to be pulled and Matt, poor Matt who Mello had dragged in to this, had been killed.

_Then don’t._

“You’re running out of misting.”

_You. Time._

Mello laughed. “It seems to be taking a while.”

_Hesitating._

“Did Light Yagami hesitate, when he killed you?”

There it was, that feeling again. Alone in the rain, but this time he could feel something else in the snapshot he could see.

“He didn’t, did he?” Mello’s shoulders slumped. “Even though you loved him.”

And there it was, the rain, and with it L’s pain. This time it didn’t go away.

_He didn’t know._

“Of course he knew,” Mello could feel it, L’s certainty about that very fact, L’s sorrow that it wasn’t enough. Couldn’t be enough, not for either of them. One of them had to die, whether Kira was executed for his crimes or L was killed first. “He just didn’t feel the same way. He didn’t care about you, L.”

_Wrong._

Mello blinked at the word slowly forming on the windscreen, fighting the urge to tear at his chest as the pain set in.


End file.
